The Things Ichabod Crane Craves Most
by IchatrinaObsessedSleepyGirl
Summary: Ichabod Crane considers the things he craves most as he pens a letter.


There were very few things in life, he, Ichabod Crane, would admit to obsessively craving; those things he literally thought he might perish without having. This wasn't to say he would perish in the physical sense, of course, for none of these things actually benefited his body in the long haul of life. Had he never been introduced to them in the first place, he obviously wouldn't have known the import they could one day pose to him.

For instance, water was a necessity to every living creature; be it human, insect, or plant. Without water, every living thing would surely perish within a very limited span of time. It was a need as opposed to a want; something every creature took of without real choice if they wished to survive.

Barbadian Best Amber, on the other hand, which was his favorite beverage by far, was hardly a necessity to his existence. However, though it surely didn't benefit him physically, it most certainly benefitted him emotionally as he considered the rum among his most valued wants in this present world. He desired its taste as well as the feeling it bestowed upon him whenever he partook of it. The way the thick residue rested on his tongue even after he'd swallowed kept his body in a constant state of warmth and easiness.

The smell of a freshly baked apple pie; that exquisite first taste when it touched the tongue. Such a thing was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head to consider it. No other food was more coveted by him. No other form of nourishment could possibly compare.

Together, the rum and apple pie were heaven on earth. When such times came to pass, it was as if God, himself, had set the two products on his table.

However, there was one taste, one mouthwatering thrill, he'd trade the tastes of both for, never to consider again. He'd cast them aside with hardly a batted eye in their direction. That taste, and that taste alone, was that of his wife's flesh beneath his tongue.

As he reclined in his chair, quill twirling between his fingers, he considered the things he'd like to say to her; the words that, should they be his last, she'd forever remember.

It was important to leave her with words of comfort, of course; words that would ease the pain of his passing should it come in the time they were soon to be parted. However, his passing was only one moment in the many they'd experienced in their marriage.

It would be a shame if, upon his death, the only thing she felt was grief; anguish so deep that all else was muted out. He refused to permit it; to allow such sorrows to befall the beautiful creature with whom all his love lay.

If this should be the last letter containing his affections for her, then it would be a letter to bring to remembrance not only all the joys they'd shared, but also a recalling to who he was as a man.

That's the idea that had brought him to his cravings; to the very things he deemed his favorite in all the world.

Placing quill to paper, he expressed his thoughts on them; on how deeply he longed for the smell of rum on his breath, the taste of apple pie on his tongue, and the feel of her exquisite skin beneath his fingers.

At one point, he became so lost in his musings that he was forced to pause and adjust the arousal tormenting his loins.

Head falling to his propped hand, he inhaled a shaky breath to soothe his aching throat.

"Such torture," he whispered, quite unable to focus.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping it a few times in the hopes of relieving the pressure long enough to continue.

However, as he began considering the taste of her, he found it futile. Such longin was never so easy to be rid of.

So, with a groan, he added a few last words to his letter, explaining how he could spend hours expressing his love in words, but his complete and utter craving of her was too much to bear; forcing him to now seek her out and indulge in what might perhaps be his very last taste of her.

The thought was heart stopping.

Carefully folding the letter, he placed it in his satchel and snuffed the candle on his desk.

Then, taking the steps two at a time, he hurriedly made his way toward their room; toward his love.

Their door was open, cracked open from his earlier departure, and, by the time he reached it, his eyes had adjusted enough to be led by the full moon's light.

Oh, how grateful he was for that for as he push the door more fully open, he was greeted with an all too exquisite sight.

Blankets tangled around her legs, his eyes hungrily lapped up the sight of his wife's nude form; her bare flesh practically glowing in the moonlight.

The swell of her breasts drew his gaze first as he unabashedly love them. Always one to brag, he considered his wife's breasts to be the most lovely he'd ever beheld. They were full and plump, more than a mouthful which always excited him as he longed to struggle with the fight of loving them all at once.

Her arms were wound around his pillow as though she'd missed his work at some point during his absence, leaving her to reach for the next best thing on which to cling.

Unable to wait another moment, he softly padded across the floor, pausing just beside the bed to remove his trousers as their usefulness had come to an end.

Carefully placing his weight on the edge of the bed, he maneuvered himself to rest over her; all fours pressed into the mattress on either side of her.

Looking down on her now, her body on full display beneath him, he considered how he wished for this to happen.

As he weighed the gentle lover within him next to the animal he longed to be, he noticed her shift ever so slightly; leaving the blankets tangled around her legs to slip down further.

A groan escapes his lips at the sight of the tuft of hair between her thighs; the short red curls a tempting destination.

Pulse pounding, it became hard for him to concentrate on anything else other than the dip that followed the curls; his gaze locked on that patch of hair.

His cock was now hanging heavy between his legs; becoming nearly too painful to stand. He needed relief in the worst way. How he just wanted to end it all by seeking the warmth with which she never failed to surround him.

However, with her resting so peacefully, he knew she wasn't ready; still unaware of his ravenous desire.

So, with a deep breath, he crawled backwards and rested on his haunches, pulling the sheets further down her thighs.

The room was dim with morning light, just enough to give him the delightful view of which he was now partaking.

Unable to stand not touching himself, he grasped his cock between his fingers and took them up his length, the soft groan he emitted unavoidable.

There would be months of this in the future. Lonely nights without her, leaving him to take his own arousal in hand as thoughts of her body plagued him. God, how painful it would be. None of her warmth to surround him. No sweet whispers in his ear of how much she loved him; how wonderfully she thrived under his touch. This was hardly to mention how cold the nights would be. There'd be no heat to help his arousal along, no sweat to help him gain a proper orgasm. Especially missed would be the sweet caress of her folds enveloping him as he found his home within her.

At the end of his control, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her thigh, enjoying the warm, soft feel of her skin.

However, his eyes never left the dark patch above. He wanted her taste so badly he felt his mouth began to water. A desire to drowned himself in the depths between her folds arose.

With his mouth gently kissing along her thigh, he reached forward and pressed a finger ever so lightly into her slit, just barely probing the fleshy skin.

Her body shifted, but, as far as he could tell, she was still fast asleep.

Becoming bolder, he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the outside of her folds barely enough to part them and gain a glorious taste of what laid between them.

When he reached the top of her slit, he remained there, closing his lips around the spot he knew his sweet friend would emerge from, and waited as he breathed against her.

The scent of her sweet musk filled his nostrils, causing him to groan as he ground his hips into the mattress for relief to his bulging cock.

If he managed to be patient enough, he'd consider himself a saint.

Dragging his tongue down her folds, he gently lapped at them, noticing the slight change in her breathing as he did so.

Then, when he covered her clit again, this time adding a flick of his tongue, he felt her go stiff as she snapped her thighs around his head.

"Ichabod," she moaned as she arched against the bed, her fingers clenching in the sheets.

Lifting his hands to pry her thighs apart, he propped his chin on her belly and admitted, "This cursed morning has left me thirsty, my love."

Her green eyes ventured to his as she lifted her head enough to look down at him. It took only a few heartbeats for a sleepy smile to grace her lips.

"Come here," she whispered, as she crooked a finger at him.

More than eager to meet her request, he hurriedly crawled up the bed, his pulsing cock a distraction as he held himself over her on all fours, anticipating her next move.

Her eyes, glinting with desire, flickered to his painful arousal before meeting his gaze again.

She, then, tilted her head up enough to brush her lips to his, a slight flicker of her tongue lapping at the remnants of her sweet core on his mouth.

"It seems as though you've already filled your thirst," she whispered.

Ready to have her, he sagged against her body, placing his full weight upon her and enjoying the snugness her thighs provided against his cock. "I could never be filled enough."

Her fingers danced along his spine as she continued nuzzling his skin. "What brought this on?"

Nearly groaning, he nudged her head to the side so he could seek out the sweet column of her neck. "Do I really need a reason beyond laying sight on you?"

She traced the dips in his hips. "Is that truly all it takes?"

"Truly," he whispered as he sucked at her lobe. "The slightest glance at you leaves me in the direst of circumstances."

A laugh shook both of them as she slid her hands over his ass to pull him harder into her sex, earning a groan from both of them.

"Merciful God." He rolled his hips into her, finding relief for the ache in his groin. "You must be weaving some spell around me. There's no other explanation for the constant arousal between my legs."

"Is that so?" Her teeth nipped at his jaw. "Are you sure it wouldn't have anything to do with my prowess in our bed?"

Oh, this woman.

"There's a possibility that your prowess may share part of the blame." He lifted his head to catch her eyes, cocking his brow as he did. "What a handful you are."

A sly grin parted her lips as her hand slipped between them, her grasp unexpected as she took him in hand.

"A _handful_ you desire," she whispered, her fingers twisting him firmly.

"Katrina," he moaned, his brow pressing to hers. "Save me."

Such simple words to utter.

However, they were hardly parted from his lips before his wife's body was over his, her fingers now in his hair as she took his mouth with hers.

She was in control. There was no question of that. Katrina and control went hand-in-hand. Years of marriage had taught him that. The best he could manage was the occasional bout of testosterone fueled battle of words with her. If he ever did come out on top, it was usually because she'd allowed it.

When she'd had enough with his kisses, she pushed herself up, her body graceful as ever, and, once again, took him within her grasp.

The sight before him burned through his mind, storing itself in the brightest part of his memory bank. How he loved watching her. Hair aflame in the rising beams of light throughout their room; eyes glinting at him with pointed intentions.

Then, she was surrounding him, her deepest warmth giving aid to his desire.

"Ichabod," she moaned as she scratched her nails down his chest, her hair a mess about her shoulders; her mouth parted in pleasure. "Tell me of your thirst."

The way her hips twisted around him, the arch of her back as she took him, brought a lustful haze over his being.

"It's not a thirst but a ravenous craving." His hands surrounded her hips and threw her to the bed, once again taking claim of his place over her. "I crave you; your taste, your skin, your love, your thoughts. I want them all."

Their skin became moist as their bodies began to slap, the smoothness of her skin moving in perfect rhythm with his. Sometimes, he wondered if she had a touch of foresight in regards to their joining. It was like she anticipated his next thought before he'd fully formulated it.

"My love," she begged as he pulled from her in a devilishly slow manner, his lips burning a path between her inviting breasts. "Don't torture me."

"I adore you," he whispered, absorbing every twitch of her body as she lay beneath him, her flesh heated and smooth.

And he did adore her. Every sigh. Every tug of her fingers against his skin. She was his everything.

Fingers weaving through his hair, she made a point to tilt his gaze toward hers. There, he found a sea of green soaked with sorrow.

"Make love to me." Voice laced with a grief he recognized, she admitted, "As though it were..."

Overcome with the urge to reassure her, he recovered his place within her embrace, taking her cheek in his hand as he pressed his brow to hers.

"Hell itself could not keep me from returning to you."

"It isn't Hell that concerns me," she whispered, her tone scolding. "It's everything between here and there."

"Everything between here and there is unaware of your charms, Mrs. Crane." He smiled as he traced his finger across her lips. "There is no greater incentive in the world for my continuance to exist than you"

The soft press of her lips to the pad of his fingers shattered his resolve.

Once again, he found himself immersed in the feel of her; the smell of her. With every new meeting of their bodies, he felt himself fall deeper into the urgency surrounding her request.

The last time they made love.

Would it be?

Morning was but on the other side of the window, the sun's continual persistence to make entrance upon them ever approaching; the rays coming ever closer to exposing their bare forms.

"Ichabod."

Her soft murmur of his name as she clutched to his shoulders, her body at the brink of shattering, was all he could hear amidst the pounding blood in his ears. This point in their union nearly always made its conclusion with his pulling from her; with his completion taking place separate from the warmth of his wife's. Each and every time, it left him feeling as though there was something significant missing.

There was always an unspoken truce between them; a forbidden moment for which they both long to ignore. Many nights had heard their whispers; their hopes for their future. Like Adam, he wished to fulfill his wife's deepest desires. He wised to partake of the forbidden fruit with which only she could tempt him.

"Katrina," he breathed, his panted breath hot against her ear. "I-"

The soft tickle of her hair to his nose as she nodded her head against his cheek was all he could feel as his body finally gave release, the insistent pulse of blood throughout his body sending him over the edge.

It was like a storm of such magnitude as to sweep him from his feet, leaving him breathless and spent with no recollection of anything previously more important than this feeling. Never before had he felt so connected to her; so enraptured with his pleasure.

Silence permeated their room, save for the heavy breaths mixed between he and his love.

What could be said? No words could give comfort to the coming months spent apart. If anything, words would leave a certain lack to the feelings swirling in his chest. There were no words that came to mind that could possibly describe what it was was to walk away from her; to leave her warm embrace for the cold, horror of war.

The rays were now glinting across her hair, giving it a mesmerizing hue. As he lay upon his side, he burned her face into his memory. However, her eyes were what he longed to see the most; the beauty of life he so wished to preserve.

"Katrina..."

Her lips pursed as she turned her head from him, but not before he caught the shimmer of a tear streaking her pale cheek.

He hated when she hid from him. Even now, he could see her pulling an invisible wall around herself; a protective shield she'd wear for the duration of their time apart, striving each day to keep the devastation latched around her heart from the public's eye.

"I should ready," he whispered, knowing there would be no acknowledgment from her.

With a heavy heart, he rolled from the bed and bent to search amongst their half hazardly scattered garments.

The cold floor was an unwelcome reminder that the day had arrived and his departure was imminent. Within the hour, he would be parted from her for an untold amount of time.

As he departed their room, he noticed her finally begin to stir; the loosened sheets revealing her nude form. A shot of pain coursed through him as he watched her rise from the bed, the fall of her hair glinting in the sunlight. It wasn't that she wouldn't acknowledge the vacated place he'd made in their bed, but that she couldn't. If they began saying their goodbyes now, they'd each fall apart.

He would've given anything to have stood for hours just memorizing the curves to her body. However, it was not to be as he turned and headed for the stairs. He had to be the one to press forward, lest he fall to his knees before her and beg her forgiveness for his abandonment. There were things to gather, supplies he required; prime among them the apple pie she'd baked the previous night in preparation for his departure.

As he wrapped the precious gift in a cloth, he sensed her presence behind him.

"Is there anything else you require?"

A soft smile touched his lips as he brought his satchel over his head and turned to her. In her hands was his hat, which she was twisting between her fingers as she waited by the door. She couldn't have looked more hesitant.

"Only that you assure me of your love again."

A barely perceptible twitch of her lips gave him sight into her thoughts. She was breaking inside.

"There's so much I wish to share with you," she whispered, her voice teetering between emotions. "So much I need..."

Reaching out, he took her hands in his grasp and brought them to his lips. "All I've ever required is your love."

She nodded, her eyes downcast. "It's always been yours."

Ever avoidant, she continued to stare at his shirt

With a sigh, he took her chin between his fingers, tilting her face to see her eyes. "How many times have we said goodbye?"

"It's different this time," she returned, her fingers tangling in his coat; an obvious desperation coming over her. "I could beg you to stay."

A sadness he could not put words to overtook him as he gave a small shake of his head. "But you wouldn't."

It was as though all the air deflated from her in one fell swoop; like she'd lost a little of her spark in that moment.

"No," she admitted, her fingers slackening in their grip. "I wouldn't."

"I'm surprised at you," he said, with a small chuckle. "Are you not the same woman who told me everything happens for a reason? That we all have a destiny?"

She quickly shook her head. "I said destiny was a choice." Her eyes met his with a fierce resolve. " _I_ did not choose this destiny for you. I never _wanted_ this path for you."

"Katrina," he lamented, his heart beating faster. "What would you have me do? Defect?"

"You've done it before."

His eyes widened as he pulled from her slightly, unable to actually believe she'd say such a thing. His Katrina, who was so strongly opinionated about politics and the war. His Katrina, who had guided him to where he now was.

"Katrina..."

"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, her eyes closing as she shook her head. "I shouldn't... I keep circling the fear that this will be the last time I ever speak to you; ever touch you; ever see the love I have for you reflected in your eyes." Her breathing staggered. "Sometimes, I hate that I fell in love with you."

At a loss for what to say, he found her hands again. "My love, I don't-"

"You don't know how difficult it is for me to allow the person I love most in the world to march directly into danger," she whispered, her eyes dancing erratically about him and the rest of the room. "You're too brilliant and kind and-"

It seemed to him that she wasn't even speaking directly to him any longer. Everything about her now seemed to point to her trying to convince herself of something, but what it might be, he couldn't imagine.

Hands reaching out to cup her face, he sought to make eye contact with her. "Katrina, I understand-"

"You don't," she returned hotly. "You have no idea..." Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "This war will never end, not in a way that allows us to-"

"We _will_ be together," he whispered as he urged her to look at him. "I swear, if I have to climb out of Hell itself to keep this promise to you, I will."

Not wasting a moment, he pulled her into his embrace, his mouth seeking out the warmth of hers.

Even now, he craved her; the taste of her skin, so beautiful and smooth. He wanted to take the time to reassure her even further, but a knock at the door brought an unwelcome intrusion into their home.

"Captain Crane," came a voice from the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, he never let go of her as he moved to open the door. "I'll be just a moment longer. Wait for me."

"Yes, sir."

The young man nodded and began backing down the steps.

Before he could fully get the door closed, she had taken his face in her hands and pressed close to him, her mouth reclaiming his.

So overcome with her immediate presence, he wrapped his arms around her and turned to hold her flush to the wall.

Her hands became lost in his hair as she tugged him closer, seemingly desperate to claw her way within him. What he wouldn't have given to have been allowed just another hour with her; another reprieve to just love her.

Breaths coming quick and heavy, he pressed his brow to her, allowing both of them a moment to collect their bearings.

"Katrina..."

He wanted to speak of his love, his devotion, but her fingers laid over his lips, ceasing his intentions altogether.

Her eyes, pressed tightly closed, could no longer hold back her tears as evidenced by the streaks now present on her pale cheeks.

"I know."

Nodding his head, he pressed his lips to her brow, lingering and allowing himself a moment more with her.

"Go."

Eyes falling closed, he pulled the door open and slipped past her; leaving his love pressed into the wall.

There was a certain attraction to craving something rather than needing it. It was always a choice to return to it and she was his very favorite.

* * *

 **I know it's been forever since I've posted. I'm totally without a computer and it's just not as easy to type long stories on my phone. I struggled through this one though and promise to update my other stories soon.**


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